


Nepenthe

by notobsessedwithtonystark



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Edward doesn’t stalk as much, Eventual Smut, F/M, Memory Loss, Not anti-Bella but Bella isn’t the greatest either, Original Character(s), POC Original Female Character, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:20:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28593135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notobsessedwithtonystark/pseuds/notobsessedwithtonystark
Summary: Cedric Diggory died fives years ago. At least, that’s what she believed. The whole point of moving to Forks was to escape all of the pain and grief. Seeing ghosts isn’t anything new for her, but this is the first time one of them is actually alive. Sort of.
Relationships: Cedric Diggory/Original Female Character(s), Edward Cullen/Original Female Character(s), George Weasley/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 28





	Nepenthe

**Author's Note:**

> This totally wasn’t inspired by the crap ton of tiktoks I’ve seen in which Cedric became Edward. Also, Jessica is kinda racist.

_ Death lurked around every corner. Watching. Waiting. It’s icy hands grasping onto the unsuspecting. Of course anyone who stayed to fight had already been anticipating the end. Even then, that didn’t make the shrill cries of escaped first years any less terrifying, nor did it get rid of the fact that every minute she was tripping over the lifeless bodies of former peers. Her feet ached and with every breath she took, her chest felt like it was getting closer and closer to exploding. Dried blood caked her tawny face and drenched her clothes—some of it was her own, and some belonged to those she’d failed to save. _

_ Her jean-clad legs carried her through the crumbling corridors of the castle, muscle memory allowing her to run through the halls effortlessly. What she was certain of was that she needed to find someone,  _ anyone _ , she knew that was still alive. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to stop and look over the scattered corpses. There hadn’t been time for that.  _

His _ voice still echoed in her mind. It was as cold and cruel as the words he’d spoken. He—that  _ monster _ —called their efforts futile. He didn’t want to spill any more blood. He wanted the boy. Just the boy and no one else. They would be rewarded, he’d said. With what? A reserved seat at his table? A disgusting mark forever burned into their skin? _

_ She never wanted any of this to begin with. If it hadn’t been for that  _ stupid _ letter all those years ago— _

_ A flash of red hair caught her eye and she stumbled to a stop. She inhaled sharply as her heart pounded in her ears, her body still registering the sudden halt. She held her breath and listened, making sure she wasn’t hallucinating again, that this wasn’t some trick . . . _

“You’re actually joking, Perce.”  _ She spun around. He was there. She began to drag herself in his direction, forcing a smile on her aching face. He was  _ right _ there. “I don’t think I’ve heard you joke since you were—” _

_ A flash comes before the bang. _

_ She’s flying as dust fills her lungs. _

•••

It’s four-thousand, seven hundred and eighty-one miles to Seattle, Washington from London. The one in England to be exact because apparently there’s three other cities with the same name (she figured it out when searching for the cheapest tickets). The flight was ten hours nonstop—at least one layover would’ve been nice, she hates planes—then another half a day to take the bus from the airport to some station in Forks.

Celeste is tired. So. Fucking.  _ Tired _ .

Probably because for the past hour she’s been walking through a goddamn foot of snow hauling a heavy trunk and a suitcase. The rest of her stuff is back in the broken-down bus about two miles away. The driver said it would probably be another three hours before someone else came to pick them up and luckily she’d remembered walking was much quicker. The luggage she’d left behind would be dropped off at the station for her to pick up later. That was okay though, she didn’t come with too many things.

Forks isn’t the sunniest place, and it definitely isn’t the prettiest. It certainly isn’t  _ London _ , but it gets a hell of a lot colder sooner and it’s just as gloomy. Though, the rain isn’t that bad. She doesn’t prefer to be stuck in it, but it can be nice to watch from indoors.

There are other reasons for Celeste’s exhaustion. She hasn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in months. She’s been too jacked up on more caffeine than any person should be hinging on at one time. Adding to that, she’s ruined too many relationships in the past two years and she can’t even decide whether it was accidental or not. She’s lost too much and she hasn’t realized just exactly how much of a toll it’s taken on her.

Whenever she  _ did _ sleep, she often woke up in a bed all too familiar, and not her own for all the wrong reasons.

Something moves in the woods and she stops. Her heart begins to race. Now she’s aware of how very alone she is, and how quickly the sun is beginning to set. The throbbing in her nearly numb fingers quickens as she holds onto her belongings. The wind howls as it blows her tight curls across her face and she swears she glimpses something large and covered in fur from the corner of her eye.

She’s hallucinating again, she  _ has _ to be. Sure, it’s the middle of October, but bears should be hibernating by now in this weather.

_ First it was the tooth fairy in the airport, now it’s Bigfoot _ , she scolds herself. In the short 21 years she’s lived, she’s seen things that would make the biggest cynic believe in Santa. Bigfoot isn’t one of those things. 

(Neither is the tooth fairy.)

The headlights come into view before the bus station itself. She can already see the look on his face in her mind—somewhere between disappointment and concern. The police cruiser looks just about the same as she remembers it . . . maybe just a little more beat up.

Charlie Swan is quick to hop out and take the luggage from her grasp. “The hell are you doing out in this snow? Sweetheart, that scarf isn’t going to do much on its own.”

“I know, I just forgot— _ careful _ with that one.” Celeste reaches for the old chest as the man shoves it into the small trunk. 

Charlie removes his coat and places it over her shoulders as his forehead creases. “Y’sure it’s even yours?”

He motions towards the “C.D.” engraved on one of the sides and she gives him a short nod, tightening the coat around her small frame. “Mistake. Never bothered to get a new one,” she mutters and gets into the passenger seat.

She winces as the trunk is slammed shut and sits on her hands. Celeste gives Charlie a tight smile as he gets in the car with a soft grunt.

“The bus broke down—“

“Seatbelt.” She puts it on.

“—so they have the rest of my luggage. Some other people and I didn’t have the patience to wait for another bus, so they’re supposed to call us when our luggage gets dropped off at the station later.”

Charlie nods, turning the car around, and Celeste keeps her eyes forward as Forks eventually comes into view. 

•••

The house is warm when Celeste steps inside, and it smells . . . clean. She sets down her trunk gently at the foot of the stairs and walks into the living room. Everything looks the same, and yet it isn't. There aren’t empty beer cans covering the coffee table, or dirty laundry left on the floor. She spots an orange backpack on the couch and just barely recognizes it. 

“Hey.”

Bella stands awkwardly in the dining room doorway, fidgeting with her hoodie strings. 

“Hey,” Celeste responds, offering her a small smile. 

“How was the flight?” 

Celeste shrugs. “It was okay.”

Bella nods, staring at the ground. Neither one of them says anything after that, with each second the silence feeling heavier, and Celeste thanks the stars when Charlie walks inside with her suitcase. Bella walks past them to climb the stairs, Celeste watching her go and disappear behind one of the doors. 

“She’s . . . taller,” she comments, taken aback. Truthfully, she shouldn’t be surprised. Last time she saw Bella, the girl used to have braces and wasn’t much taller than an elf.

“Yeah, she’s uh . . . grown a lot since she came here. She’s missed you.” 

_ I can tell _ , Celeste thinks to herself, not really blaming Bella for the sudden retreat. 

Charlie picks up the trunk and starts hauling it up the stairs. Celeste follows close behind him, her fingers gliding against the wall. The walls of her old room are yellow, and Celeste freezes on the doorway. When she’d been Sorted, her favorite color had changed from yellow to blue. Not that she ever really liked blue, especially then. She’d felt out of place in her own House, and eleven year-old Celeste figured making blue her new favorite color would help her fit in. It had only changed back to yellow when she met him. She hated it now though.

Charlie drops her luggage on the bed and then faces her, resting his hands on his hips in his signature awkward dad pose. “Bella and I repainted some of the rooms, but we left this one alone. You like yellow, right?”

Celeste nods, glancing once more at the patchy paint job done years ago. She gives him a tight smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“ . . . Awesome. Well, if you get sick of it, we can go to the store and get you a different color.” 

Celeste nods again. Charlie opens and closes his mouth before heading to leave the room; he’s never been one to linger after all.

“Hey, Dad?” she says just as he has one foot out the door. Charlie turns around and raises his brows in question. Celeste rushes over to him and wraps her arms around his waist. 

“I missed you,” she mumbles into his shirt.

She feels his hesitation as he returns her embrace. Charlie rests his chin on the top of her head and hugs her a bit tighter now. “Yeah, I missed you too, Celie.”

He’s gone before she knows it and she’s alone again. Surrounded by the ugly walls of someone she used to be far too long ago.

•••

“You should be able to find your way around pretty easily,” Bella says as she pulls into the main parking lot.

Celeste grabs onto her seatbelt when they jerk to a stop. The entire ride had been bumpy and she isn’t sure if it's because the old roads, or her sister’s rickety ride. Likely both. 

Celeste practically flies out of the truck as soon as Bella shuts it off. In her rush, she accidentally closes the door on her hair and winces when it tugs on her curls. Her face grows hot as she shamefully opens the door and closes it again— _ carefully _ this time.

She readjusts her turtleneck sweater and plucks lint off of the sage fabric. She takes a glance around while tightening the straps of her backpack. Already she can’t help but feel  _ extremely _ out of place . . . _ especially when people who walk by stare at her _ .

“It’s like they’ve never seen a black person before,” she whispers to Bella as she jogs over next to her.

Bella laughs.  _ Actually _ laughs. “Don’t worry, I promise no one here’s that bad. I mean Jessica Stanley’s a little, I dunno, but she means well. Most of the time. I think.”

“Jessica Stanley?”

“You’ll know her when you see her, believe me. She’s really, kinda out there.”

Celeste’s shoes drag as she walks, her left leg starting to ache a little (probably due to her nerves). “So, uh. How many classes do you have? Y’know, just in case—”

That's when she sees him and her heart stops. He’s staring at her, and not blankly like he usually does. This isn’t like before because this time . . . this time he’s more than just a shell of what he once was. He’s staring at her like he knows her. His eyes seem to be taking her in and he looks almost as disturbed as she does.

_ Cedric. _

A rough tug on her arm pulls her halfway out of her trance and now she’s being dragged towards the entrance. She didn’t realize Bella had followed her gaze.

“What?”

“I said that if you don’t want to get hurt, you’d stay out of his way.”

Celeste blinks and her brows crease. “ _ Who? _ ”

Bella’s frown softens, barely, and she takes a small step back. “The guy you couldn’t take your eyes off of. Him and his siblings, stay away from them.”

_ Siblings? _

Celeste’s mouth opens and closes. “Wh- you can see him?”

“I mean, yeah? Dude, you look like you’re about to—”

“I gotta get to class.” Celeste rushes past her sister, careful not to touch her. 

She hardly hears the other girl calling out for her, asking if she knows where she’s going. Of course Celeste knows where she’s going. She spent most of last night studying the campus on a map she’d printed out. She knows where everything is because she doesn’t want to ask anyone to show her around and ask questions she doesn’t want to answer. She knows where the health center is, where all the emergency exits are placed and—

Professor Rhode’s class is mostly empty when Celeste walks in. She takes the seat closest to the door and nearly knocks down a couple of glass vials when she shoves her backpack onto the table. Celeste lets out a silent curse. Right. This is a chemistry class.

She rubs her brown hands, which are still cold from outside, over her face and groans softly. Bella could see him. Is he just appearing to anyone now? He doesn’t even know who Bella is. At least he’d only seen her in the pictures Celeste had shown him. But they were kids in those . . . did that even matter? Bella had said something about siblings, and Cedric didn’t have any brothers or sisters last she checked. Bella seemed to know him, too. Had he come to her before? 

_ The ghosts at Hogwarts have never traveled outside of their boundaries _ , Celeste thinks as she unpacks what she needs.

Short, manicured nails tap the hard surface in front of her and she looks up. The girl in front of her is pale (almost as pale as Bella). Her perfect brown waves bounce as her head cocks to the side, lips pulling into a grin that’s too nice and almost Cheshire like. It reminds her of someone Celeste once knew.

“You must be the new girl, right?” Her voice is a little too high for Celeste’s liking and it almost sounds forced.

Celeste leans back in her seat and glances around, eyes finally landing back on the girl. Of course she’s talking to her.

“Guess I am.” Celeste offers her a tight smile. She wants nothing more than this conversation not to go any further right now.

The pale girl blinks once. Twice. “Right, well, this is my seat. So if you could kindly move, I’d really appreciate it. You seem the type to sit in the back, so I’m sure it won’t be a big deal for you. Uh, no offense or anything.”

Celeste, in fact, is offended.

She looks down at the table then at the girl hovering over her. She does that twice more and raises a brow. “Either I’m blind or stupid because I don’t see a name on it,” she finally says calmly.

The grin on Cheshire girl’s face wavers. Only for a second. She glances at the guy behind her, whom Celeste just took notice of. He’s handsome with dark skin, and darker eyes. “Think I found you a girlfriend, Tyler. You guys like them angry, right?”

Celeste hadn’t been too sure of the girl’s identity at first, but now she’s certain. “Ah. You’re Jessica, right?”

That makes Jessica’s expression brighten. “You’ve heard of me? Oh, of course you have. I mean, I kinda was captain of the volleyball team in highschool. And, not to brag or anything, valedictorian.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, then I’m pretty sure I saw a seat reserved for ‘valedictorian’ somewhere by the trash can.” Celeste doesn’t smile. She doesn’t take any pride in her jest, she can’t find it in herself. She’s dealt with people like Jessica back home for reasons all the same, yet different.

Celeste glances up at Tyler and he doesn’t meet her eyes. She wonders why he even bothers to put up with this (or with Jessica in general). He must’ve been friends, or something, with her for a long time if he’s still sticking around.

Jessica’s gawking at her and she resembles a fish as she stumbles to find words. When she speaks, her voice is nothing but a small squeak. 

“I’ll find another seat then.” The words come out in a rush as Jessica walks off. Celeste doesn’t bother looking back and relaxes. 

She glances at the fluorescent lights above, one of them flickering non-stop. They do nothing but increase the ache behind her eyes. Celeste covers her face with her hands once more and takes in a heavy breath of chemicals and old books. She begins to think that maybe she should’ve listened to Charlie earlier and stayed home. At least then she could’ve tried to sleep off the grumpiness and jet lag.

The temperature around her drops and she frowns. Celeste doesn’t remember seeing a vent above her. Then again, she hadn’t been too interested in the ceiling either.

“You met Jessica.”

Celeste’s blood runs cold. She’d forgotten what he sounded like. She remembers reading something about how a person’s voice is the first thing to go from your memory after losing them. It’d been the first thing she’d worried about after his funeral, forgetting his voice. She hadn’t been thinking about what happened to his belongings. She hadn’t been worried about a portrait being hung up in the Hufflepuff common room to honor him. She’d just been  _ terrified _ of forgetting his voice. She’d spent so many days in silence replaying his last words to her in her head over, and over, and over, and  _ over _ again.

One day it left her. Slowly. And then all at once.

But now it comes back to her and she can’t bring herself to look directly at him. Instead, she keeps a low gaze as she turns her head and a concerningly pale arm comes into view.

_ Is everyone else here practically translucent? _

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she says hoarsely and hopefully quietly enough so he won’t hear.

Celeste can feel his hesitation regardless. “Ah, this is sort of . . . my class too.”

He still has an English accent, but she can hear the American influence, the complete opposite of her own.

“I’m sorry,” he continues, voice soft, “but do we know one another?”

Finally, Celeste looks at him and she  _ can't breathe _ . She hasn’t been this close to him in too long. He’s just as she remembered:  _ beautiful.  _ Except the rosiness has left his cheeks and his brown hair is more ashen in color. He’s as pale as he was in that open casket and his eyes . . .

His eyes are black.  _ Pitch _ .

It’s not him.

She doesn’t remember ever having to learn how to breathe, but it’s painful as hell. Celeste finally shakes her head and purses her lips. 

“No. No, I don’t think we do.” She whispers the next few words to herself. “Believe me, I would’ve remembered.”

He frowns and licks his lips. “I meant to introduce myself earlier, but Bella took you away. I’m Edward, by the way. Edward Cullen.”

_ Liar. _

“Edward,” she scoffs. She tastes the name on her tongue and she doesn’t quite like it. It’s too  _ old _ .

_ Edward _ , whatever his name is, looks at her expectantly. Oh.

“I’m Celeste. Swan.” It’s strange having to introduce herself to him. He’s a total stranger, yet she still expected him to know her name.

“Swan? That explains it. Are you a cousin or something?”

_ Explains what? _

She shakes her head with a frown and a curl falls in front of her face. “She’s my sister.”

Edward stares at her, almost as if asking her to continue. “Oh, uh, we have different moms is all. My parents had a one-off a little over a year before my dad met Renée. Dad wanted to be in my life and Mom let him. I visited during summers, holidays . . .”

Celeste glances down at his pink lips and shakes her head. “I’m sorry, you  _ really _ don’t need my life’s story.”

He laughs softly and it’s the most melodic sound in the world. “No, don’t apologize. I  _ really _ don’t mind.”

“What about you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Bella. How do you know her?” Celeste thinks it’s almost sad how desperate she sounds.

His eyes narrow as he looks down at the table and shifts uncomfortably. “We, uh, had this thing for a few months. I should have known better. My parents kind of homeschooled me for a while so I was new to the whole public school, and people thing.”

_ He has parents. _

“Bella, she—I mean one of my sisters told me I should’ve stayed away from her anyway and I didn’t listen.”

Celeste knits her brows and glares at him. “You better not shit on my sister right now, Cullen.”

Edward smiles. It’s genuine. “No, no. The problem was the both of us. Anyway, things were getting too . . . I ended it. This was two years ago, maybe. She’s still upset, but I don’t blame her.”

_ Yeah, losing you isn’t exactly easy _ .

Just as she opens her mouth to say something, Professor Rhodes begins the class. Celeste hadn’t been paying much attention to how many people piled in during her conversation, but the room feels a lot smaller. She shifts her eyes towards the front and keeps them there, mentally preparing herself for the long morning ahead.

•••

She doesn’t mean to stare, but the Cullens are a peculiar group. Edward had pointed them out to her earlier after Rhodes’ class, and it hadn’t taken her long to spot them across the parking lot hours later. All of them are ethereal; sculpted by the gods, and for the gods. And yet, they seem to be somewhere between alive and dead.

One of them catches Celeste’s gaze and a shiver runs down her spine. This one is smaller than the others— _ much _ smaller. She stands out with a pixie cut and mousy features. Something the small Cullen says makes the others turn and suddenly Celeste feels like prey. She presses herself against the side of the truck, but she can’t seem to take her eyes off of them. Edward is the only one she avoids looking at, but the others . . .

“Hey, let’s go.”

Celeste’s head jerks in the direction of Bella’s voice. She forgot just how long she’d been waiting, but she’s glad to see her sister now. She almost smiles until she sees the crease between Bella’’s brows. “What’s wrong?”

Bella doesn’t say anything as she gets into the truck. Celeste scrambles to follow suit, the Cullens completely out of her mind right now. The truck takes off hardly a second after it’s turned on and her heart jumps in her throat.

“Bells—“

“You don’t get to call me that.”

Celeste blinks. “What?”

Bella chews on her bottom lip and shakes her head. “You don’t get to come here after disappearing for years and act like everything’s fine between us. You can’t stroll up and yell at my friends, then call me ‘Bells’ like that makes everything fine.”

Celeste struggles to get her seatbelt on as she scoffs. “Okay, I understand everything else, but you’re mad at me for putting Jessica in her place? Did she even tell you the full story?”

“Pretty sure cursing her out for politely asking you to move from her seat doesn’t need a full story.”

“Merlin, tell me you’re not serious right now.” Celeste rubs her face and takes a deep breath. The patience she has at this moment is unbelievable. “She was the one being—could you put your seatbelt on? Jessica was the one being a racist bitch.”

Bella’s silent. Just for a moment. “That makes no sense. Jessica has friends that are . . .“

“Friends that are what? I don’t care what kind of friends she has. It doesn’t save her from the way she talked to me. I can only imagine the shit she says when she’s alone. If she knew I was your sister—“

“ _ Half _ sister. And she doesn’t know yet.”

She grins bitterly. “ _ My bad _ .”

Celeste crosses her arms and looks out the window. Her eyes sting with the tears she won’t allow to fall. Sure, it’s true that they are in fact only  _ half _ related, but Bella’s emphasis was what truly hurt. Celeste wishes more than anything she could tell her everything. Why she stopped writing and why she didn’t leave London right after graduating. There are so many things she wants to share with her; all of these stories and adventures, her pain . . . but most of these things she can’t tell Bella. It’s too risky. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think! Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.


End file.
